SHEILD
by MD Goth
Summary: Yeah i decided to put this back on the web after I found the first chapter the story might not be exactly the same but it'll be close
1. Default Chapter

Ingrid felt a dull throbbing in her head as she began to awake. She became aware slowly that she was not in her bed, but instead laying on a cold surface. It became clear, after a moment, that the thrumming she felt in her head was actually engine noise, and that she was on a metal floor. As her vision cleared, she saw her friend and confidante, Fillmore, also waking.

"Fillmore?"

Fillmore looked at Ingrid, his eyes wide in surprise, "Um, Ingrid, you didn't, by chance, decide to spend the night at my place without telling me and then redecorate my room in stainless steel, did you?"

Ingrid shook her head.

"Rats. Then we've been abducted."

"So the next questions we have to answer," Ingrid said, getting to her feet, "are who and why?"

"Oh, why I can guess. Someone wants us out of the way. I don't think this is one of our usual nutjobs, though, Ingrid. Seems a bit too...thought out."

"Got that right. Hey, there are weapons on that wall over there," Ingrid pointed to a set of staffs, spears, and a few very sharp looking swords.

"I do NOT care for the decor," Fillmore said.

Just then, a door slid open across the room from the weapons. A short, stocky man in black walked in. The door did not shut behind him. All they could see of his features was a pair of dangerous looking eyes that regarded them coolly.

Ingrid didn't need to say a word. She shot Fillmore a glance, and he tossed her a staff from the wall, and took one for himself. The two charged the man, hoping to get past him and out of the door to freedom.

The man didn't say a word. He met Ingrid's charge head on, and there was a harsh, metal sound. Ingrid saw a glint of silver light, and then her staff fell into pieces.

"Not good," she exhaled, flipping back away from the man.

Fillmore, however, had managed to get behind him while Ingrid had distracted him. He brought his staff down hard on the man's head, only to have it bounce back at him. The man whipped around with unbelievable speed, and threw a solid roundhouse punch right at Fillmore's head. Fortunately, Fillmore slipped at just that moment, thrown off balance by his recoiling staff, and the punch missed him by mere centimeters.

Ingrid, meanwhile, grabbed a sword from the array of weaponry. A wakizashi type sword, she noticed.

"Back away from Fillmore," Ingrid said, "Or I use you as a pin cushion for this thing."

She hoped he wouldn't see the sweat on her brow, or call her bluff. Beating up on Parnassus and Check matey was one thing. Burying large pieces of metal in other people's bodies was quite another.

The man turned to face Ingrid, and she understood suddenly what had become of her staff. Six razor sharp, foot-long claws sprang out of the man's hands.

"You wanna get outta here, you're gonna have t'use that thing, darlin'," he said in a gruff, almost amused voice, "But I'm bettin' you ain't the type. And even if you was, it wouldn't do you much good."

Fillmore, however, had managed to slip, unnoticed between the man's legs. He punched upward, catching him square in the groin. The clawed man fell over, cupping his wounded crotch.

"Way to go, Fillmore," Ingrid said.

Fillmore smiled, but his victory was short lived. The man was up in a flash, and suddenly on top of Fillmore. His hand came down at Fillmore's throat, and Ingrid heard the horrid, raspy metal sound of the claws coming to bear again. She saw a claw on either side of Fillmore's throat, and she felt sick.

Fillmore, My God! What am I going to tell his parents? What am I going to tell Vallejo? Oh, Jesus! Fillmore!-

Ingrid felt hot tears welling up in her eyes, and she threw all care to the wind. She charged the man as he crouched over Fillmore, and as he turned to look at her with his steely eyes, she drove the sword into his back. He rose up, and stumbled to the side, blood spattering on the ground.

Ingrid felt sick again, thinking of what she'd just done, driving the blade deep into the other man. But, she reminded herself, he'd already done the same to Fillmore. Maybe it was wFillmoreg to kill, but this time, she wouldn't feel too bad about it.

She knelt beside her longtime friend, "Oh God, Fillmore. I'm so sorry. I...I should have been faster. I...Fillmore..."

And then Fillmore opened his eyes. Ingrid almost had a heart attack. And then she noticed that there were no extra holes in his body, though there were two very distinct marks on the floor at either side of his neck.

"You're...you're alive! Fillmore, I could kiss you!"

Then she saw a panicked look in Fillmore's eyes. She turned just in time to see the man's fist coming towards her. She heard the metal noise again, and suddenly, there was a metal claw on either side of her throat.

She gulped.

My God! They're in his body! He's got them in his body! What sort of person is he!-

"Ok, Logan," a voice came over an unseen loudspeaker, "you've made your point. Survival time for our candidates, One point five minutes."

The clawed man whistled, then his claws retracted into his hands. He stood up tall, and pulled off his mask. Ingrid saw a fairly hairy face with an expression that looked half impressed and half deadly. The wakizashi she'd plunged into him was lying on the ground a few feet away. It was covered in blood. Ingrid looked at the wound, wondering if she'd grazed him, certain that she had not. There was a tear in the fabric of his shirt, and beneath it, she saw white, unmarred skin. No sign of blood or a wound.

"One and a half minutes, eh, Nicky?" the man called up to the ceiling, "Not bad. How long do most o' your boys last?"

"Don't rub it in, Logan."

"I think the girl here has a right t'know," Logan said, "Y'did drag her out o' her bed an' all for this. It would probably do her good t' hear how good she done."

"Forty-two seconds. There, are you happy?"

"Y'hear that, Darlin'?" The hairy man asked Ingrid, "You an' your pal outlasted Nick's boys by more than double their best time."

Ingrid didn't know what to say, in large part because she had no idea what the hell was going on.

Fillmore, however, was not so handicapped for speech, "Where are we?"

His question was answered with alarm klaxons. The hairy man looked up in surprise, and Ingrid and Fillmore used that second of distraction to bolt out the door.

"What was that all about?" Ingrid asked Fillmore.

Fillmore was equally perplexed, "Got me. But I bet I know the cause of the alarm."

"Quick, let's find the command center, and get the heck out of here."

Just then, they heard heavy footsteps behind them. Logan was coming after them.

"Ingrid, I suggest we double time."

"No argument, Fillmore."

They burst out of a door, and were greeted with a terrifying sight.

It looked like the deck of an aircraft carrier, with one very important exception. The deck was lined with numerous, enormous helicopter blades. The deck was pointed slightly downward, and the duo could see a large stretch of ocean far below them.

"Fillmore," Ingrid tapped him on the shoulder, "There's the bridge!" The two turned to leave, Fillmore grabbing a couple of parachutes off of the wall as they turned to make their escape. They were stopped dead in their tracks, though, as Logan stood in the doorway, and there were dozens of armed men behind him.

The man in the eye patch walked up to them, "Resourceful, wouldn't you say, Logan?"

"If you want my opinion, Nicky, then I say you could have worse recruits. How many people actually make it to the bridge without an invite from you?"

"One hairy SOB comes to mind. Ingrid Third, Cornelius Fillmore, my name is Colonel Nick Fury. Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D."

"So, let me see if I got this straight. You're in charge of a super-secret government agency, and you want me and Fillmore to join. So in order to test our skills, you kidnapped us in our sleep, pjs and all, brought us up here, and had us fight with deadly weapons against this guy. Have I missed anything?"

"There's the bit about making you think they'd killed me, and running that guy through with a sword," Fillmore said, "But other than that, I'd say you covered the bases. Well, no, there is the bit about being late for school, our parents worrying about where we are, and I missed getting breakfast at the Eggroll place."

"Taking all that Fillmore just said into account," Ingrid crossed her arms sternly, "I'd say we're not interested. And how did this guy Logan survive when I stabbed him, anyway? I mean, was it a fake sword or something?"

"Actually," Logan said, "That was a real sword, and you got me good. If I were a normal guy, I'd be dead now. You got my kidney.

"Lucky for me, I ain't normal. I'm a mutant with a healin' factor. And as far as makin' you think your friend was dead, that wasn't the idea. When he nailed me in the balls, I sorta lost my temper and decided to throw a scare into him. If I'd known that you were gonna try and fillet me for your boyfriend, I'da just stuck to knockin' the wind outta him."

"Fillmore isn't my boyfriend. He's my best friend."

"Uh, Ingrid. I don't think that's the point."

"Ok, so let's say we want to hear you out. Why us? And why like this?"

"I'll answer that in reverse," Fury said, "First, as to why like this, it's simple. I needed to see how you'd react in a fight for your lives. If I'd brought you in and told you it was an exercise, you would have held back. We certainly wouldn't have seen you try to gut Logan here. But knowing that you'd do something that reckless when you were angry enough, that's the sort of thing we'd need to know. I know you aren't happy about it, but you got better numbers than most veteran S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.

"As for why you, that should be quite obvious. You've been fighting the bad guys since you were in braces.

"Ever since an incident we all know as 9/11, S.H.I.E.L.D. has been stretched to the limit of its resources trying to keep something like that from happening again. Our qualified agents are all over the world, and we have no eyes to spare. We need new, talented recruits, and we need them fast.

"You've got the skills, the both of you. But you haven't been able to develop those skills, because you keep fighting the same third rate yahoos. We can help you stretch your skills to higher levels.

"Of course, there are laws about employing people your age, but S.H.I.E.L.D can use you as freelance agents without violating those rules.

"However, we do have to send you through some training in order to qualify you for the work. But the benefit is that you would get to save the world, but from now on, you'd be using your skills against people who make petty school thieves look like a boy scouts. And you'd be paid government wages for the work."

"Colonel," A portly, mustached man walked onto the bridge.

"Dugan, about time."

"Sorry, Colonel, sir. There was a line at the drive through."

Dugan held up a large bag with a familiar and distinctive logo on it. Fillmore perked up instantly, "Ingrid, I do believe that's the breakfast egg roll."


	2. 2

Ingrid and Fillmore stood on the deck of the Helecarrier, looking out at the city of New York on the horizon.

"What do you think, Ingrid" Fillmore asked.

"I don't know," Ingrid said after a moment of silence and a deep sigh, "I've heard of this guy Fury before, but all of the stuff I'd read was about World War II, and a Sergeant Nick Fury and his Howling Commandos. "

"Maybe this guy is a relative?"

"A relative missing the same eye, and with the same name? Doubt it. No, Colonel Fury here has been alive for a long time."

"That really doesn't change our situation, though, does it?" Fillmore asked.

"No. I mean, I have no problems training to save the world. It's just their methods I don't much care for. And the thought that that bastard Logan will be training us makes my stomach turn."

"You mean to tell me you don't recognize him, Ingrid?"

"Should I?"

"Those claws are a dead giveaway, Ingrid! He's that X-Man they call Wolverine. There's all sorts of rumors about him on the Net. I hear he's gone into rooms filled with two-hundred well armed baddies, and he's the only one who's come out alive again."

"That's something else I don't much care for. This guy is a killer. And...and he could have killed us! What if those middle claws of his had slipped out? We'd be breathing through holes in our necks right now!

"Is that what they're going to train us to do? Kill people?"

Fillmore was quiet a moment, before he spoke, "Ingrid, are you mad about stabbing him?"

Ingrid was silent.

"Ingrid, I know you. You aren't a violent person. You snapped under serious pressure. No one would blame you for that. At least you didn't kill him. And you know to be more careful next time."

Ingrid looked at Fillmore with tired eyes, "Fillmore, I WANTED to kill him. I still want to kill him. That's not like me. I don't go around killing people. But this Wolverine guy, he made me angrier than Parnassus, or Checkmatey, or Sonny, or any of the other nuts we've locked horns with. And he's supposed to be one of the good guys?"

"Look at it this way, Ingrid. If you decide not to join, then he'll probably be strutting around saying that you didn't have the guts to go through with it. Remember? So bust down the door and tell them what's what."

A smile suddenly came to Ingrid's face.

Nick Fury was sitting down to his morning cup of coffee, when the door to his office slammed open. Ingrid Third was standing in the door, and there was fire in her eyes. Fillmore was close behind.

"First of all, where the hell do you people get off kidnapping us? If you wanted my help, you should have come to me directly and asked. That's not so unreasonable. And don't give me that bull about needing to test our abilities, because that's not gonna fly.

"Second, Fillmore and I aren't assassins for hire. I want that clear here and now. We do not kill. Period. End of discussion. If you want our help, then that is a rule that doesn't get violated. If that's a problem, then we walk.

"Third, what the HELL were you thinking, locking us in a room with a known killer like that man. Is it true that he's the guy Wolverine who's all over the news and the Net? If half the stuff I've heard about him is true, he should be locked in a cell and never let out. He's dangerous.

"We have no problems going on your missions to save the world. But we are not going to be treated like kids, and we are not going to be pushed around or intimidated. Got it?"

Fury smiled, sipped his coffee, and then wordlessly gestured to the opposite end of the room. Two men were standing in the shadows of the office. One Ingrid made out as Logan immediately. The other man was much taller, and incredibly muscular.

"Miss Third, allow me to introduce Logan, who you already met, and, I gather, do not like, and a close personal friend of mine, Mr. Steve Rogers, though you might know him better under his alias."

Rogers stepped into the light, and Ingrid nearly dropped dead of a heart attack. He was wearing the red, white, and blue garb of Captain America, and carrying the trademark shield.

"Now, let me make three things clear, Miss Third," Fury said, still smiling, "One, I'm glad you called us on the abduction issue. If you'd let it drop, we would not be having this conversation. We're looking for good agents, not milksops.

"Second, Logan is Wolverine, yes. And half the stuff you've heard about him is true. But half of it is media induced propaganda, anti-mutant rhetoric, or just plain net rumors. Logan is dangerous, but so are the people we're fighting. He's never killed anyone who wasn't trying to kill someone else first, and he's never killed an opponent who had surrendered. You may not like him, but he's the best there is at what he does.

"Third, Mr. Logan and Mr. Rogers will be training you and Mr. Fillmore. We aren't going to turn you into assassins for hire. S.H.I.E.L.D. is a law enforcement agency, not judge, jury, and executioner. But just as police must sometimes take a life in defense of others, so too must S.H.I.E.L.D. But we aren't going to make killers of you. We ARE going to teach you to survive killers and cutthroats.

"So if that's all there is, we're going to have you report to your homes for a day of relaxation. Your school has already been contacted. They were informed that the two of you were approached by a special organization for gifted students, and that's why you are not making classes today. They've also been informed that it's a great honor for the school, so there shouldn't be too much complaint from the superiors. Just whatever complaints your peers have.

"You'll still be attending X high, but during missions, the cover will be that you're participating in a special government program for gifted and talented students."

"Excuse me," Ingrid said, "You said you'd take us home?"

Ingrid and Fillmore were flown home by "Dum-Dum" Dugan in one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s flying cars, and they entered the Fillmore home to find a tall, white-haired black man in full S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform talking to their parents.

He spotted Ingrid and Fillmore and rose to make introductions, "My name is G.W. Bridge. I've been explaining the situation to your parents. Colonel Fury told me that you should take twenty-four hours to discuss the matter with your parents, and then make your decision."

"Ingrid, how was the training session?" Ingrid's sister asked. Ingrid considered telling her everything, but she was quite certain that her family would never approve of her working for S.H.I.E.L.D. if they knew the details of what had taken place that morning. Instead, she decided to stick to the basic facts.

"Mock battle training. Supposedly, we did better than most of the agents on staff. It was a bit nerve racking, not knowing what was going on, but Colonel Fury and I had a long chat about that. It was nothing really."

"Who will be training you?" Ingrid's father asked.

"That'd be us," a gruff voice came from the door. Ingrid and the others turned to see Logan standing in the doorway, with Captain America standing behind him. The sight of Logan in her home infuriated Ingrid. How dare he come here? He was a monster, a killer. The memory of seeing Fillmore on the floor, those claws at his throat, came to Ingrid, and she felt a dull fury in her head.

Logan continued, "It ain't gonna be easy work, either. These two are some o' the best. And that means they're gonna have it hard. We're gonna make 'em work for it."

"I'm not too comfortable with this," Fillmore's mother said, "I mean, we only just learned about the things that Fillmore and Ingrid have been doing, and frankly, it scares me. I don't think Fillmore should participate."

"It's both of them, or neither," Bridge said, "Our research indicates it won't work any other way."

"What our research shows is that you two have been working in close proximity for such a long time that your bio-rhythms are in perfect sync. Also, we have a system to rate various attributes. Strength, endurance, stamina, charisma, intellect, cognitive reasoning, luck, and precognition.

"Ingrid is well above average in most of the physical attributes, and has decent scores on charisma, intellect, and cognitive reasoning. In short, a reasonably fit agent.

"Fillmore, on the other hand, has above average endurance, excellent confidence, and phenomenal luck. He has his physical strengths as well, but he seems to have an almost supernatural ability to avoid serious harm in any situation.

"Alone, either of them could be a good agent. Together, they are a dynamite combination. But we feel that the two of them should not be separated. Their high performance seems to be based on their close proximity to each other.

"If they were forced to separate, their bio-rhythms would begin to drift apart, and their scores in each area would slip."

It was Fillmore who spoke next, "You always told me that, whatever I did, I should always try to make it count for something. Well, I want to do this."

Ingrid nodded, "That goes double."

Captain America spoke after a long silence, "Mr. and Mrs. Fillmore, Mr. and Ms. Third, we will do everything in our power to ensure the safety of your children. Logan and I will teach them until they're as good as we are, if not better. And you have my personal promise on that."

"And mine to, everyone," a voice came from the doorway. "Names Inferno aka Kaori. Ingrid and Fillmore's new handler," Kaori leaned against the doorway, her green eyes had a spark of amusement within them.

Blade looked miserably at the empty lair. He then looked at Puddles, who was shivering at his feet.

"She left," he sighed to the poodle.

The small dog whined in sorrow.

"She left me. After all I've done for her! She up and left me!"

Blade looked at the picture of Thor on the wall, which he'd been using as a dart board. He shouted at the hole-pocked photo, "This is all your fault! You humiliated me in front of her! Every chance you got, you would sass me, mock me, ridicule me! Why couldn't you have left me alone?"

Silence. Deafening silence.

Blade lowered his head, "Kaori..."


End file.
